


Prompt Fills

by orphan_account



Category: Being Human (UK), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Spooks | MI-5, Strike Back, The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demon Hunters, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - World War II, M/M, Mermaid!Mitchell, Secretly a Virgin, tumblr prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 9,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the title suggests, it's a collection of prompts I've filled on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Author's Note:**

> Rainbow Connection: Our muses are thinking back on the life they’ve shared together

Anders was playing with his hair, knowing Mitchell liked it even if he’d never admit it, while Mitchell sprawled over his lap like an overgrown cat. As he relaxed more and more, he remembered how often Anders had calmed him down with his technique, even if the person who had riled him up in the first place was Anders. It always made him fall into a light doze, no matter how stupidly hyperactive he was for a hundred year old man—Anders’s words, not his.

“I can hear you thinking down there.” Anders hadn’t looked up from his book, and Mitchell had been contemplating whether or not he should interrupt him when Anders had used unfair disarming tactics.

“No you can’t,” he mumbled into Anders’s leg. Anders just hummed and scratched a little harder, and Mitchell arched into the touch with a little pleased moan. Anders smirked. When he finally let up Mitchell flopped back down onto his lap.

“So what are you thinking of, kitten.”

Mitchell poked at his side for the nickname before replying drowsily, “Just stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“How long we’ve known each other, when we met, stuff.”

“You sap.”

“Like you don’t remember any of that.”

“I don’t think about it constantly.”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t,” he insisted.

“I only think constantly about my favorites.” Anders’s hand stilled before he resumed his soothing motions.

“What’s your favorite?”

“Our first date.” Anders hummed as a sign for Mitchell to continue. “You’d already finished making an ass out of yourself—ow!” He poked Anders in the stomach again for pulling his hair and continued, “You looked sexy in your blue shirt and tight jeans, and I wanted to have sex with you right there even though I thought you were an ass—still do—but you actually managed to be somewhat charming during our date. I was glad I wore my yellow shirt and black jeans since I’ve been told I look fantastic in those and I really wanted to have sex with you.”

“This might be the corniest thing you’ve ever done.” Mitchell poked him repeatedly for that, and huffed in annoyance. They were quiet for a minute, Mitchell annoyed, when Anders leaned down and said against his ear, “It was your red shirt, and I wanted to fuck you the minute I saw you,” and he pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“How sweet,” Mitchell replied sarcastically, a smile quirking at his lips again.


	2. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never Before, Never Again: Our muses are falling in love

He was crazy about the asshole and he didn’t know how it happened. It had started as just sex, and neither of them had intended to let it go beyond that. Mitchell was never supposed to be feeling this all-consuming need to draw genuine smiles from him constantly, to be around him and keep him safe. The rage he felt when Anders told him about Natalie was indescribable, and he was ready to hunt her down and rip her apart until Anders told him Loki had killed her already.

He couldn’t help but pull him into a hug every time he walked by and plant a kiss on his cheek, his nose, his mouth, anywhere he could reach. He loved to bury his face in the crook of his neck and lay his head in his lap while Anders ran his hand through his unruly curls. He was absolutely, completely, utterly gone for the cocky, abrasive prick and every time he tried to tell him the words caught in his throat and he couldn’t get them out. All he could do was pull him in and kiss him, torn between hoping that Anders got the message and hoping he didn’t.

It came out anyway, a whispered ‘I love you’ into the nape of Anders’s neck as they were falling asleep and Anders shot out of bed faster than Mitchell had ever seen him move. They didn’t talk for days, Anders staying at the office for as long as possible and otherwise avoiding Mitchell. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he cried when he realized what Anders was doing.

He was considering leaving when Anders came back, apologizing, calling himself an idiot and apologizing again and whispering his name over and over. It was so out of character for Anders that Mitchell looked up at Anders’s coaxing, shock and hope written all over his face. He led Mitchell to the bed, and to his surprise didn’t attempt to initiate sex. He curled up next to him and kissed everywhere he could reach, and he didn’t say it back, but he clutched Mitchell’s hand like he was afraid he would disappear if he didn’t.


	3. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody’s Getting Married: Should be fairly obvious
> 
> (this probably fits into the Bond villain verse)

Mitchell was twisting his ring around his finger and shifting from foot to foot. George looked about ready to smack him on the back of the head if he didn’t stop, and Mitchell couldn’t really blame him. His eyes kept darting to the doors, anxious to get out of there, torn between excitement and terror. The forever part of their vows might just be forever if Anders became a full god, and that thrilled him as much as it frightened him.

“Mitchell, calm down!” Mitchell shot a panicked glance at George and kept fidgeting. “Honestly, I figured Anders would be more likely to contemplate running out of the two of you.” Of course George would be able to tell what he was thinki—

“Oh God. Anders would run wouldn’t he?” Mitchell could feel all the blood leave his face. “He’s not the commitment type. Of course he’d take off running—“

“Mitchell for God’s sake!” George planted his hands on Mitchell’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “A while ago, I would have said Anders wouldn’t have been the type to propose at all. Maybe we’re freaking out over his past relationships instead of who he is now, with you.”

“Aw, George, is this your way of saying I’m special?” It lacked his usual bite, but George still hit him on the back of the head. Even so, he had calmed down slightly. He was concentrating on breathing in and out when the door opened suddenly and Anders walked in.

“I need a minute with John.” George looked like he was about to argue and Anders looked like he was about to start insulting people, so Mitchell put a hand on his arm and nodded.

“I’ll see you in a minute.” George glared at Anders and Anders waved goodbye, and Mitchell was seriously going to need to play mediator and have them hash it all out soon. Once George was out of the room, he turned to Anders.

“I can’t do this.” Characteristically to the point, and Mitchell was about to panic when Anders grabbed his hand and started rubbing his knuckles, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed. “This walking in separately thing.” Mitchell felt like he could breathe again, even if he was confused.

“What?”

“This is going to sound terrible, especially right before our wedding, but this is not something I ever even considered. I need you there so—” Anders broke off, turning beet red. “So I can remember that—” he cut off again before he seemed to decide to hell with it. “That I’m not just getting married; I’m getting married to you.” Mitchell bit his lip so he wouldn’t make any sarcastic comments. If he did, Anders would just close himself off. Instead he nodded, and Anders blew out a sigh of relief.

“To tell you the truth I was getting pretty panicky myself.” That got a laugh out of Anders.

“Let’s get this over with then before we both bolt, then,” he said as he tugged him along. “I hope you weren’t expecting some flowery shit for my vows.”

“You wrote vows?” Mitchell asked incredulously.

“Shut up,” Anders muttered, and they both walked to the church.


	4. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bite Me: my character will bite yours on any part of their body

Mitchell kept pounding into Anders, breathing harshly into Anders’s neck and inhaling that sweet, alluring scent beating beneath his skin. Anders was fully a god now, and the smell of his blood kept pulling him in more than before. He could feel the pressure of his fangs wanting to come out, to sink into the vulnerable curve of his neck, the skin so very soft and so easy to break, even as a god and Anders clenching around him, riding him, was driving him mad.

“Do it,” Anders panted in his ear. He moaned at a particularly hard thrust from Mitchell, pleasure shooting up his spine and he dug his hands into Mitchell’s shoulders, his hips rolling over his to get him deeper. “ _Do it_.” Mitchell shook his head, afraid if he so much as opened his mouth he’d start feeding. He brought a hand up to Mitchell’s curls and moved him so his mouth was right over his neck. He had barely enough brain function to curse Anders’s newfound strength and tried to pull away.

“No,” he gritted out. Anders ground down onto him and wrapped his other arm tighter around his shoulders.

“It’s hurting you not to—” he cut off when Mitchell thrust hard to distract him, a moan ripping through him when it grazed his prostate. “You can’t hurt me.” He tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck further and Mitchell felt his fangs elongating against his will. “Do it, John.”

With a helpless groan, Mitchell sunk his teeth into Anders’s neck, blood flowing into his mouth so sweet and heady and so different from human blood. He could feel the relief spreading through his body, the hunger easing for the first time in he doesn’t know how long and he kept thrusting, kept pushing into that tight, delicious heat as Anders whimpered and moaned over him. He reached down to Anders’s entrance and brushed his fingers where they were connected, Anders stretched around him and squirming over him. He let out a choked noise and a “Mitchell, wha—” before Mitchell pressed harder against his rim, arms like iron bands around his waist to keep him from bucking too wildly and ripping his neck open more. He continued rubbing to distract him from the pain in his neck, pressing a little harder each time until his finger popped in, stretching him just that little bit more and Anders was clawing at his back and shoulders, a silent scream on his lips as he came over both their stomachs.

Mitchell pulled away, his hips thrusting wildly as he followed him down and all Anders could do was ride it out with him, shaking and panting. They both collapsed onto the bed, and Mitchell watched, awed and relieved, as the wound on Ander’s neck closed. He leaned down and licked at the blood still left, and Anders shivered, pleased, at the attention.

“Are you still hungry?” Mitchell shook his head and continued licking his neck clean. “You sure?” he asked amused as he continued licking.

“I’m fine.” He licked again. “Better than fine.” Anders hummed happily and wrapped a leg around Mitchell.

“Isn’t it a little early for round 4?”

“It is never too early for round 4.”


	5. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cabin Fever: Our muses have been cooped up or bedridden for a long time and it’s taking its toll on our sanity

“Fucking go outside!” Anders finally yelled. Mitchell shot quite the pout at him, although he’d deny that’s what it was. He’d also deny that he was hurt that Anders was kicking him out even though they’d spent the past few days doing nothing but getting on each other’s nerves. It had gotten to the point where they were too annoyed to even have sex with each other.

“Why do I have to go outside in the blizzard?” he shouted back.

“Because if I did I’d die or believe me I would have taken off a long time ago!” That stung a lot more than he’d like to admit. Rather than argue, he grabbed his jacket and stormed out the door. Anders let out a frustrated groan and flopped down on the couch. The tv was out because of the blizzard, so he just sulked at it.

Before they had started getting on each other’s nerves Mitchell would poke at his cheek to draw him out of a sulk and tell him about some of the things he’d seen before Anders had even been born. Anders tried not to show it, but it was pretty fascinating.

Still, even he couldn’t keep sulking indefinitely, and against his will, he started calming down in a few hours. When a few more hours passed and Mitchell still hadn’t come back, Anders’s ire was completely forgotten and he was beginning to worry, even if Mitchell was most likely fine. With a sign of annoyance, he stood, pulled on his coat and was about to go outside when Mitchell walked in. He glared at him.

“Were you about to go outside in a blizzard?”

“No?”

“You idiot!” he snarled, striding over and throwing Anders over his shoulder in a rare show of his vampire strength. “Just because you have a little cabin fever it doesn’t mean you should try and kill yourself.”

“I was worried about you, okay?” Anders finally snarled back. Mitchell stopped abruptly and set him down. He looked at him with wide eyes until his face broke into a grin. “Stop it, you egg.”

“You were worried about me.” He sounded so happy about that that Anders wanted to whack him on the back of the head.

“Can we just skip the sappy make up talk and go straight for the fantastic make up sex?” Mitchell pretended to think about it before he hauled him up again and carried him to the bedroom.


	6. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rubber Duck/Do De Duck: Our muses are bathing together.

Mitchell had been playing with the bubbles in their bath before he flicked them at Anders’s face.

“What the fuck, Mitchell?” He glared when the vampire laughed at him and flicked some bubbles back. He pouted when that only made Mitchell laugh harder.

“Aww, don’t be upset,” he got out between his laughter and reached across the tub for Anders. It took some tricky maneuvering—their legs were tangled together from their position facing each other and it was hard to untangle them without tripping or slipping—but Mitchell was able to manhandle Anders so he was leaning back against him and wrapped in a hug entirely against his will. No really. “Don’t be mad, little god,” he murmured teasingly into his neck.

“I’m not little,” he grumbled. “And at least I’m a god. Your bloodlust is under control, so you’re basically just deadly furniture.” Mitchell straightened and looked down at Anders.

“Have you been talking to George?”

“No.” Anders looked at him like he was insane before leaning back into the hug he was most certainly not enjoying. Mitchell chose to let it go for the moment and focus instead on wiping the pout from Anders’s face.

“Are you still mad?”

“I wasn’t mad.”

“Good.” Mitchell’s hand was slowly snaking its way down Anders’s chest and then down his stomach. “I’d be a terrible boyfriend if you’re mad while we’re both naked in a tub.”

“You should get to work. I am a little in the unhappy range.” Mitchell delighted in the little hiss when he wrapped a firm hand around Anders. He briefly debated getting out and moving this to a bed, but then Anders spread his legs wider, and—well, it would take a stronger man than Mitchell to resist that.


	7. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Anders/Mitchell. AU: Demon hunters! :D
> 
> anders cuts his finger on some broken glass
> 
> mitchell gets a key for anders' apartment
> 
> with both in a WWII-era au
> 
> harry potter au

_Demon Hunters_

He wouldn’t rescue him if he went and got himself into shit, he said, but now It had Mitchell pinned down, hissing and its eyes flashing red now that he was so close to devouring the hunter under him. Anders didn’t even think before he shot it in the head, and Mitchell wiped the blood that had ended up on his face after Anders helped him up. When he shot one of his adorable, boyish smiles at him, Anders muttered “shut up, fuckhead” and stomped away before he lost control and kissed him in relief.

~

_Anders cuts his finger_

Anders’s breath hitched when Mitchell grabbed his hand in a gentle but inescapable grip, his eyes zeroed in on the blood welling up from the thin slice on his finger. His eyes fluttered shut and he brought his face closer, inhaling deep and savoring the scent of Anders’s blood before his tongue darted out to lick at it, the tip of his tongue flicking against his finger. With a breathless moan, he sealed his mouth over the cut to lap at the blood, his tongue moving in almost soothing strokes over his skin, and Anders breathed a sigh of relief when Mitchell’s eyes opened and they were still hazel.

~

_Mitchell gets a key_

He fiddled with the key, flipping it nervously in his fingers in a way that usually had Anders staring in barely-concealed amazement when he did it in front of him. Yes, he had been in Anders’s apartment before, many, many times, but Anders had been the one leading them in, and he was usually too busy trying to kiss every inch of the blond’s skin available. This would be his first time actually using his own key and he’d be calling the apartment home this time; his worry evaporated when he walked in and Anders immediately walked over and pulled him into a kiss.

~

_WW2_

Mitchell screamed when they poured alcohol over his bullet wound, and he tried to quiet himself because they were still out in the mud but it burned, and even Anders running soothing hands through his hair didn’t help. He was panting, chest heaving and eyes wet, but he still heard Anders say, “Wait,” felt his hands cup his face right before the other man pressed their lips together as hard as he could. When they poured more alcohol to disinfect the wound, he cried into Anders’s mouth, and Anders rubbed his hands over his cheek to bring him any comfort he could.

~

_Harry Potter AU_

He knew he had to get this right, that he only had this one chance to ask Mitchell out successfully after all the time he had spent teasing him. How was he supposed to know that the dorky little Gryffindor Ty had befriended would grow up to be so gorgeous? He only had to be charming for long enough to sleep with him anyway, but when he saw Mitchell’s almost shy smile when he agreed to go out with him, Anders knew Mitchell would have him wrapped around his little finger long before then.


	8. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character situation meme: My character leaving a sexual message on your characters answering machine. Mitchers!

Mitchell was almost scared to check his messages. He had been avoiding sex with Anders, which, for his own safety or no, the god was not too happy about. To his surprise, there was only one. Considering he had stormed out mid-argument, he was expecting a swarm of angry messages with extremely creative word choice and to be told exactly where he could shove his self control.

Still, while it may not have been a hoard of messages, there was still plenty of opportunity for profanity.

The moan that came through the phone’s speakers was a surprise. Mitchell gulped when he realized what was happening and he knew he should hang up, but then another moan filtered through.

“Mitchell,” he moaned out. “Mitchell, oh  _god_ ,” he gritted out. “I have—” he stopped, panting but obviously not stopping whatever he was doing. “I have my fingers in me and-and I’m pretending they’re yours— _ngh!_ ” Mitchell could imagine it now, Anders arching off the bed, his eyes fluttering shut while his fingers kept thrusting and he could feel his own cock getting harder and harder at the image.

“Shit, Anders,” he hissed, and he palmed his cock to try and alleviate the ache.

“I want to ride you so fucking bad, Mitchell,” he hissed out desperately. “Or would you rather spread me open and fuck me until I’m screaming?” He let out a helpless groan, and Mitchell wondered what had changed when he heard a click and a vibration and let out a moan of his own. “ _Oh god_  I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you? To just fuck me into the mattress and take what you want?” he could hear the bed creaking and Ander’s breath hitching and imagined his hips pumping furiously, his cock slapping against his belly as he rode the vibrating toy inside him. “Jesus— _Mitchell!_  Mitchell I’m co—I’m coming!” His scream was cut off by the message running out. Mitchell sat there listening to the automated voice relay the message information and tried to breathe through his raging hard on. He took another moment to catch his breath before hurriedly dialing Anders’s number. He picked up, and Mitchell could tell the bastard was smirking.

“ _I will make you pay_ ,” he hissed out, and when Anders only laughed he hung up.


	9. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ablutophilia: I’ll write our characters making love in a bath or shower

Mitchell let out a deep groan when Anders did something frankly amazing with his tongue buried in him and he was reminded why he should never ever under any circumstances make a bet about sex with Anders. He let his head fall forward against the cold tile, focused on the water running down his back to try and stave of his orgasm, but his legs were shaking and then Anders spread his fingers wider in him. Mitchell let out a borderline whimper at the sensation.

He felt that warm, wet tongue slide out of him and he could hear the smirk in Anders’s voice when he teasingly asked, “Doing okay there, John?” Before he could answer, Anders curled his fingers and pressed that spot in him, massaging relentlessly and he just knew that bastard was laughing when he beat a fist down on the tile. He kept crying out, thrusting back onto those fingers, his chest tight when suddenly Anders stopped and switched back to languid flicks of his tongue against his rim. He let out a ragged moan at the sudden change.

“Anders,” he groaned out, stretching the name out on a moan.

“Yes?” he asked, smugness dripping from his voice before he dove back in, his tongue pressing inside and moving in him, getting him wet while his fingers kept stretching him open. Mitchell viciously bit into his lip, determined to hold out just a little while longer but then Anders’s other hand came up. It danced, feather light, up the inside of his thigh and closer to that soft spot between his balls and his ass and rested teasingly out of reach.

He knew he was going to lose this bet.

The realization barely hit when Anders was rubbing there and his tongue and fingers were even more ruthless in driving him insane. Mitchell could only rock on the blond’s fingers on unsteady legs, electricity shooting up his spine but  _it wasn’t enough_.

“Anders please,” he panted out, his voice a wreck because he couldn’t seem to get air into his lungs, choked out moans tearing from his throat. Anders ignored him, and Mitchell knew what he had to say to get more and he didn’t care that Anders would win and he’d be an insufferable prat. “ _Fuck me_.”

Anders stood and moved one hand to Mitchell’s hip while the other kept pulling and pushing and  _stretching_  relentlessly.

“Is that you begging, Mitchell?” He sucked at a spot on his shoulder while he continued to ruthlessly work him open. “Because I think you can do better than that.”

“Please— _aaah—_ please please  _pleasepleaseplease_   _fuck me!_ ”

“Much better.” He mouthed his way up his neck, smearing sloppy kisses over the slippery skin. “You know this means I win, right?”

“If you don’t fuck me right now I swear I’ll—” he cut off with a hiss when Anders abruptly pulled his fingers out.

“Ah, ah, ah, there’s no need for that,” he said teasingly and ground against Mitchell, his cock between the vampire’s cheeks. Mitchell thrust back, the silent message obvious and he got an ominous feeling when Anders only smirked. “Just for being so rude, though, I think you’ll have to work for it just a little but harder.”

Mitchell let out an inhuman noise bursting with frustration and slammed his hand on the wall again.


	10. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - Oops! - One of our characters is new to the neighborhood, and already has managed to lock themselves out of their flat! They turn to the other for help.

Mitchell ground his teeth together impatiently as the phone kept ringing. He’d barely moved in and already this crap was happening. The brunet was giving serious consideration to just breaking down the door when Anders finally picked up.

“How are you, Dracula?”

“I can’t get in the apartment.”

“Did I forget to invite you in?” It would have been a legitimate question if it weren’t the laughter in his voice.

“I can’t find my key.”

“I don’t know what you think I can do from all the way over here.”

“Your office is less than a minute away, Anders!”

“So come visit me.”

Mitchell let out a groan of frustration before snapping, “Fine.” He started walking and added, “But we’re not having sex. You need to get actual work done today.”

“You sound just like Dawn sometimes.”

“Mhm, and isn’t it convenient that my key disappears when we team up to make you work?”

The bastard didn’t even have the grace to pretend to be remorseful when he replied, “Obviously it’s an ancient Norse curse.”

“Named Bragi, by any chance?”

“You wound me. You’re racking up so much bad karma your key may never reappear.” With a growl of frustration, Mitchell hung up. He stomped the remaining distance to Anders’s office before he slammed the door open. Dawn jumped in her seat.

“Sorry, Dawn,” he said with a quick smile. “And karma has nothing to do with it, you little dick!” he barked in Anders’s direction.

“There is nothing little about my dick!” Anders called back. Dawn immediately picked up her jacket and made for the door. “Oh! Can you get me some coffee while you’re out, Dawn?”

“No,” she replied testily. “Can I get you anything, Mitchell?” she asked.

“How come you’ll get him something?”

“He’s a pleasant person.” She turned back to Mitchell. “You’re way too good for him, by the way.”

“Oy!”

“Thank you,” Mitchell replied, both of them ignoring Anders for the moment.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”

“You really don’t have to.” Dawn nodded, and with that left the office.

“Are you two done flirting?” Mitchell rolled his eyes at him and walked towards his desk.

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure if I dated her instead she wouldn’t hide my keys.”

“Would you withhold sex from her too?”

“Dawn doesn’t need to be blackmailed into working.” He leaned against the desk, Anders’s knee brushing against his leg. “Now where’s my key, you prick?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Mitchell shot him an unimpressed look that Anders was completely unaffected by as he gave a put upon sigh and pulled Anders up. Before Anders could say anything, Mitchell pulled their bodies flush with a hand on his hip and the other cupping his jaw and smashed their lips together. Anders immediately opened his mouth to Mitchell’s tongue with a small moan, his hands burying themselves in Mitchell’s unruly curls and pulling him even closer. He moaned when Mitchell’s hand moved lower and grabbed a firm handful of his ass to move their hips together, pleasure shooting up his spine at the friction. They broke apart for air, Anders’s lungs burning as he panted into Mitchell’s neck. They kept grinding together, both impossible hard already and Mitchell’s hands were everywhere.

He made a noise of confusion when Mitchell suddenly pulled back, a victorious grin on his face, Anders’s key in his hand. The blond glared at him.

“That was sneaky and underhanded.”

“I figured you could appreciate something like that.” He made for the door.

“And what am I supposed to do about this?” he cried out, pointing at his obviously tented crotch.

“You have a hand,” he called over his shoulder.

“Well now you have my key. How am I supposed to get into the apartment?”

“If my key makes a mysterious reappearance, you can just use that.”


	11. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15- Kiss in the Rain

Anders pulled his red jacket tighter around himself and pulled the hood up when it started to rain. The jacket plastered uncomfortably to him within minutes, and he sped up to get to Mitchell’s house faster. It wasn’t safe to be out by himself for long, not with Herrick and Mitchell at each other’s throats.

He was almost at the door when he felt it, the air getting just a little bit heavier, everything getting abruptly and eerily quiet. Holding his breath he turned, preparing to talk his way out of it the old fashioned way but breathed a sigh of relief instead when he saw it was Mitchell.

“Where have you been?” he said, hushed and hurried as he strode towards Anders, his hair and clothes practically glued to him. Even if he was a vampire, Anders felt a slight twinge of worry that Mitchell was out in this weather in just a thin shirt and jeans.

“I met with a client at a bar.”

“Are you alright?” he asked, but before he could answer he breathed out a worried, “Jesus,” and pressed a kiss to his lips, chaste compared to the others they’ve shared, his hands digging into Anders’s shoulders to keep them close. He recovered and responded, moving his lips against Mitchell’s but the vampire made no move to deepen the kiss. Their lips were slippery from the rain, water running down their hair and onto their faces.

“Not that I mind getting sexed up in public,” he started when Mitchell finally pulled back, “but what’s that all about?” He rubbed his hands together to get some warmth into them, and when Mitchell noticed he rubbed their hands together, staring intently at them and obviously avoiding Anders’s question. “John?”

“Herrick showed up at work today,” he finally replied. “He was hinting at things, made it sound like—” he cut off with a painful sound and the look he shot Anders was so lost. He couldn’t handle it.

Anders smashed their lips together again, and Mitchell immediately cupped the blond’s face in his hands, just enjoying the contact and knowing Herrick’s subtle taunts were wrong.

“We should get inside,” he mumbled against Anders’s lips when the blond shivered. He ushered them both inside, and if he stayed a little closer to Anders than he usually did, no one said a thing.


	12. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1- Hot, Steamy kiss

He didn’t know who kept initiating the kisses; it was more likely they both kept leaning in at the same time. All he knew was that they couldn’t stand to be apart for too long and they were barely keeping it PG rated for the sake of the other people living in the hotel, at Mitchell’s insistence of course. If Anders had his way they would’ve had sex in the lobby.

The minute they were in the elevator, Anders had Mitchell pressed up against the wall rutting against him and devouring his mouth. All Mitchell could do for a moment was cup Anders’s face in his hands for leverage and let Anders do as he pleased, the skin of his lips tingling and his cock achingly hard in his jeans. When he recovered, he moved his hands down and grabbed the back of Anders’s thighs, grip hard and unforgiving, and hauled him up. The blond immediately wrapped his legs around his waist and tilted Mitchell’s head back to keep kissing him, his tongue tasting and stroking and feeling wonderful in his mouth.

He pulled back, legs wrapping tighter and said against his lips, voice rough, “I’m still not used to that.” He tilted his head back with a groan when Mitchell’s only response was to nip and suck at his jaw. “You should carry me to the room like this,” he said, biting at his ear and continuing across his cheek and back to his mouth, nipping at the full lower lip before taking it in his mouth and sucking it red.

“Should I?” He sucked a bruise onto his neck to high for his suits to hide. “Do you want me to carry you in and throw you down on the bed? Spread you open and fuck you?” Anders moaned and rocked into his stomach to relieve the throbbing in his pants. He mouthed his way to Anders’s ear. “Or would you rather have me instead?” He rocked up against him, panting raggedly into his ear. “Want me to spread my legs for you, darlin’?”

“You are a menace,” he growled, and lowered himself so he was standing again. “And yes,” he stated matter-of-factly, smashing their lips together again and stealing Mitchell’s air. He was breathing hard when they parted, disoriented from the rest of his blood rushing south and let Anders tug him off the elevator. “I want to see how flexible you can be.”

“I used to be a dancer, back before I joined the army.”

The look Anders shot him was more lecherous than he’d ever seen him.


	13. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bleed: My character will injure your character

No one dared to approach Mitchell as panicked as he was. Anders opened his mouth to say something, likely more snarky than comforting, but was cut off by his own cry of pain when Michelle took advantage and forced the bone back into place. No one missed Mitchell’s wince of guilt at the sharp sound, or the way he turned his head away.

“Mitchell.”

The vampire still wouldn’t look at him, and the blond sighed.

“Mitchell, get over here.”

He shuffled to him, head down and obviously trying his hardest to get to him without looking at him. He saw the glow of Michelle’s hand out of the corner of his eye, and finally turned his head slowly to look at him. He knew he must look pathetic judging by the way Anders was looking at him, but Anders grabbed his hand and brought it up to kiss the knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” he said roughly, his tall frame hunching in on itself. He couldn’t see Anders’s smirk, but he could feel it against his skin.

“I could’ve done without the broken arm,” he said, voice both irked and amused and Mitchell felt a fresh wave of guilt, “but you still saved my life.”

“I was just trying to get you out of the way,” he said, dropping to his knees in front of him so they were eye level with each other. “I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Anders ran a hand through his unruly curls, not understanding Mitchell’s reaction and trying to calm him down.

“I know. It was an accident.” When Michelle finished with his arm, Mitchell immediately reached for it and felt the entire arm, checking the bones and worried that he had caused too much damage to fix.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he said almost frantically as he checked his arm.

Anders ran a hand through his hair again, and Mitchell froze, gaze riveted on his face. “I know.”


	14. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8\. innocence

Anders watched him, and Mitchell was too engrossed in the show he was watching to notice. Ever since he had told the vampire that New Zealand had a run of  _The Real Hustle_ , he had been glued to the tv at every available opportunity.

He took in the wide eyes, the unguarded smile, and the way he was curling into himself into an excited little Irish ball. His curly hair was a mess about his face and Anders fought down the urge to tuck it behind his ears. He listened to every little gasp and laugh that left his mouth, and it hit him why this was niggling at the back of his mind.

He looked innocent.

The one hundred year old killing machine looked innocent. It was there when he smiled at Anders when he walked into a room, eyes immediately seeking the blond out and his face breaking into a wide, ecstatic grin, his eyes crinkling around the corners. It was there when he was asleep, sprawled out and face unlined as he completely relaxed, holding Anders on top of him as if he was some large teddy bear. It was even there when Anders slowly pushed into him, determined to draw it out and Mitchell’s eyes were wide and bright while pleas spilled from his bitten red mouth.

He surfaced from his thoughts to find Mitchell staring at him with a soft, tiny grin, his dark eyes sleepy.

“I’m tired,” he muttered.

“So go to bed.” Anders scoffed when Mitchell’s only response was to open his arms as if he wanted Anders to carry him. “You’re too heavy for that.” Mitchell pouted, full lower lip wobbling and it would’ve been more convincing if not for the amusement clearly in his eyes. Soon he was smiling again, standing off the couch and reaching out a hand for Anders.

Anders took it, and smiled that happy little grin again when he kissed him.


	15. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 79\. starvation

Mitchell doubled over in pain, and he realized it was getting worse every time and lasting longer. He let out a little cry when pain lanced through him and he curled in on himself further.

He was hungry, so, so hungry, and there was no one to keep him corralled this time. He needed to get out of here before he attacked Anders, but it hurt too much to move—it hurt too much to even breathe. He didn’t want Anders to walk in on this, but when the smell of cologne wafted into his ears he knew he wouldn’t have a say in the matter.

“Mitchell?”

He tried to call out a warning, but only made a choked noise as his eyesight sharpened and his fangs elongated and he was lunging for the blond and hungryhungry _hungrysohungryneed to feed need to eat needneedneed smells so good come here little god!_

And then his world went black.

~

Mitchell opened his eyes slowly, blinking to clear his vision and groaned in pain. “What the hell?”

“Mitchell?” came Anders’s shaky voice, and Mitchell jolted completely awake when he heard it.

“Anders?” he called out, darting to his feet and pressing himself to the door. He tried to open it, but the door was jammed. “Anders, are you okay?”

“Are you back to normal?”

“Yes.” He jiggled the doorknob again and pushed against the door. “Are you okay?” There was a moment of dead silence and Mitchell’s heart plummeted before shuffling was heard. Something scraped against the floor and he pushed at the door again. It opened this time, and he was immediately out of the bathroom and looking at Anders. Mitchell’s eyes widened and he slumped against the wall when he saw the neck of his shirt ripped open, blood caked on Anders’s shirt.

“Mitchell?”

“I did that.” It wasn’t a question, but Anders nodded anyway, gaze riveted on the vampire’s face. He wanted to get closer to Anders and make sure he was alright, but he know he didn’t deserve to be anywhere near the blond.

He brought a hand up to his neck to cover the cut—and Mitchell winced when he caught a glimpse of how ragged the wound was—and said, “I managed to get you in the bathroom, and I barricaded you in there.”

“How much?” he asked, voice hoarse and pained. Anders’s looked sharply at him.

“How much what?”

“How much blood did I get?”

“Not much,” he answered after a pause. “You caught me by surprise,” and Mitchell made a choked noise, but Anders continued, “but Bragi worked on you just enough to get you in the bathroom.”

Mitchell’s mouth opened and closed uselessly, to apologize, to promise it would never happen again, to tell Anders he wasn’t safe around him and he was leaving today, anything, but no sound came out. Instead he approached slowly, Anders watching him carefully, and grabbed his hand so gently like he would break if he held it any harder.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, not looking at his bloody neck or those piercing eyes. Anders nodded but realized Mitchell didn’t see it, so he squeezed his hand.

“Okay.”


	16. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 91 (drowning)

Anders desperately held his breath, or he tried, at least, as the waves from the storm buffeted him around and kept him from swimming to the surface. He was tiring quickly, though, and he wasn’t getting any closer to the surface.

When he was about to give up, just let go and sink, he felt arms wrap around him from behind and pull him up. Whatever was pulling him was cutting through the water effortlessly, and they were getting closer and closer to a series of rocks. He was thrown onto them, and he desperately coughed out water and tried to gulp down air at the same time. He felt a hand thumping his back, and he honestly couldn’t tell if it was making things better or worse.

When he finally felt like he could breathe again, he fell onto his side, eyes closed in pain as he tried to breathe through his scratchy throat. Slowly, carefully he opened his eyes even though he felt like his eyelashes were glued shut. Blurry shapes and colors slowly sharpened until he could make out a man, dark hair plastered to his absurdly attractive face. His chin was resting on his folded arms while he watched Anders curiously, quietly, and Anders could see a small grin quirking at his mouth.

He tried to rasp out a question, but he was too tired and his throat was too dry. The other man ignored his attempts to speak and pulled himself further up the rock to hover over him. His head tilted to the side, drops of seawater dripping down from his face and hair. He made a curious nose in his throat and leaned down, pressing his lips to Anders’s. The blond made a noise of surprise and could only stare when the other man pulled back and thoughtfully licked his lips, a gurgling noise rising from his throat.

“What the hell?” he finally managed to get out. He only shot him a playful smirk, and his tail—oh for fuck’s sake he has a tail—curled up so he could propel himself back into the water.

He crawled back to the edge, but he couldn’t see any sign of the other man—merman, whatever. He flopped back down to wait out the storm.


	17. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> britchell and secretly a virgin
> 
> ((obviously canon directly contradicts this, so I’ve human AUd this. I pictured Mitchell at 17 and Anders at 19))

“What?”

Mitchell turned pink and looked away. Anders waited because there was no way he had heard that correctly. There was no way that Mitchell was—

“I’ve never had sex before, alright?” he hissed at him. Evidently he had heard correctly.

“What, like, at all?” he blurted out. Mitchell’s blush deepened with his scowl, and he moved to get up but Anders caught his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just…surprised.” He sat back down, but he still wasn’t looking at Anders. “I doubt you haven’t had offers.” Mitchell picked at his gloves and murmured in agreement.

“I’ve had plenty. I just—I didn’t—“ Anders was tempted to let him squirm a little more—this was so different from how confident Mitchell usually was—but even he wasn’t that much of an ass.

“So how far have you gotten?”

“Just my hand,” he mumbled.

“Have you fingered yourself?” he asked, not aiming to embarrass him but Mitchell turned so red Anders could feel the heat from his face across the table.

“No,” he whispered angrily. “I haven’t—I haven’t done anything like—like that.” Anders blinked at him, before he was up and pulling Mitchell out of the coffee shop and into the bathroom so they could talk more privately.

“Are you telling me that you’ve never gone further than your hand on your dick?” Mitchell seemed shocked to have it put so bluntly, but he nodded. All at once, images flooded Anders’s mind.

Mitchell on his back, thrashing and moaning, Anders’s tongue buried in him and licking him wet and open. Mitchell stretched around his fingers and thrusting down on them, legs shaking when Anders rubbed his prostate over and over and over. That long, lean body under his, shaking and trying to hold himself up while Anders pounded into him and sent pleasure shooting up his spine, grip on those sharp hips firm and unrelenting. Mitchell straddling him, legs flexing and hips gyrating while he rode him, curls plastered to his face and mouth bitten-red and kiss-swollen. Anders came back to himself and focused on Mitchell again; he was looking intently at his shoes.

“Why ask me?” and at Anders’s question Mitchell seemed to try and make himself smaller. “I mean I’m sure there are much nicer people you could ask.”

“I figured you’d know what you were doing and you could,” and he cut himself with a gulp, “And you could make it good,” the last part coming out quieter than the rest. He looked up at him when he finished, eyes wide and nervous and hopeful, and Anders pulled him in for a kiss. He was so painfully new at this—although he was definitely not a beginner at kissing—and Anders slowly coaxed his mouth open, one hand cradling Mitchell’s face and the other on his hip, thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the bone. Mitchell’s hands were on his shoulders, gripping a little tight but Anders didn’t mind. He moved his other hand down to his hip and pushed him back against the wall, still slow, and ran fluttering kisses over his jaw and neck.

“Not here?” Mitchell asked, nervous but distracted by what Anders was going to his neck.

“Not here,” he agreed. “I’m just trying to get you to relax,” and it was working, even if only slightly. When Mitchell’s breathing was back to normal and he wasn’t doing his best impression of a tomato, Anders pulled back and took in the rise and fall of his chest, the way his lashes brushed against his cheeks. He pressed a quick kiss to his full lips and pulled back again. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours,” Mitchell said, seeming much calmer now than when they had started this conversation.

“Okay,” he agreed, before kissing him again, firm but quick, since kissing seemed to calm Mitchell down. “Let’s go.”


	18. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> teacup
> 
> trees
> 
> year
> 
> magic ((borrowing goldenlionprince’s headcanon that after Mitchell drinks from Anders, Mitchell can feel Bragi’s words in his blood))
> 
> mesmerizing
> 
> kick

_Teacup_

The teacup was such a dainty little thing, and it looked out of place in Mitchell’s hands. Still he had made a bet that he could make anything look sexy, and this should be challenging enough for him. At least, that’s what Anders thought until Mitchell managed to make drinking from it look completely  _obscene_.

~

_Trees_

Trust Anders to be an expert tree climber. He wore expensive suits and looked at physical labor like it was beneath him, but Mitchell just saw him shimmy up a tree like a goddamn monkey. Although he did shamelessly take the opportunity to admire the way his jeans clung to Anders’s ass.

~

_Year_

It had only been one year. They had only known each other for one year, and had been dating for even less. Still, he could no longer imagine his life without the blond in it.

~

_Magic_

He could feel it pulling at him, shooting through him and he had never felt anything like it before. Anders still couldn’t control him with powers, but Mitchell was sure he’d do anything just to keep Anders talking. He licked his lips at Mitchell writhing underneath him and kept reciting poetry.

~

_Mesmerizing_

He couldn’t stop looking and listening; Mitchell just couldn’t stop learning about the blond god. Anders hid everything about himself so fiercely, which only made it more satisfying when he finally did reveal something: he doesn’t eat fish, he speaks French, he can read Norwegian, he can tell almost immediately when someone is lying to him, and he’s addicted to The Real Hustle now. All this made Mitchell watch him closely, afraid to miss anything and loving everything he sees.

~

_Kick_

He was understandably surprised when he learned Anders could do a roundhouse kick; as far as he knew Anders didn’t know how to fight except to throw the occasional retaliatory punch at his brothers. Anders only shrugged and told him he’s had a black belt for a while now. He wouldn’t tell Mitchell why he always held back in a fight against his brothers, though.


	19. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14- clinging

Anders didn’t know what was wrong. He just knew that the minute he stepped in the door Mitchell was on him, stripping them both of their clothes and pushing him down on the bed. He grabbed Mitchell’s hips as the vampire prepared himself roughly, kissing Anders the whole while with one hand clutching tight to his shoulder.

Before he could really process what was happening, Mitchell was sinking down on his cock, and Anders winced in sympathy at Mitchell’s pained hiss. He didn’t even give himself time to adjust before he was riding him hard, grinding them together and clenching tight around him. He didn’t mind quick sex, hell, he didn’t even mind rough sex, but Mitchell looked like he was in serious pain.

“Mitchell, Mitchell stop,” he gasped out, and he couldn’t believe he was doing this. He grabbed his hips and flipped them over, Mitchell still clawing at his shoulders and whimpering. He pulled out, and Mitchell made another pained sound and buried his face in Anders’s shoulder. “Mitchell, what is it?”

Mitchell just shook his head and wrapped his arms around him to crush them together, hands digging into Anders’s skin.

“Mitchell, what is it?”

Mitchell shook his head and turned his face into the crook of Anders’s neck, and Anders wrapped a hand around his back and buried a hand in his hair. He kissed his temple, murmuring whatever came to mind and hoped it would calm Mitchell down. Mitchell didn’t cry, but his chest was heaving under his, and Anders was more relieved than he’d care to admit when Mitchell’s breathing started evening out, although his hold was just as tight as before.

“I looked up what happened to my parents.” His voice was quiet, muffled by Anders’s skin. That would explain what he had been doing this whole time, the phone calls and the like. Anders waited quietly for him to continue. “I-I already knew I was branded a deserter, but—” He cut off, taking a deep breath. “My dad, he killed himself because of it and my mom died shortly after.”

Now Anders could feel wetness on his neck, so he pressed another kiss to Mitchell’s hair and turned them to the side so Mitchell could snuggle in closer.

“What do you need?” He had never asked anyone that before, but now wasn’t the time to panic about it.

“Just stay close,” he asked, begging and unsure, as if he thought Anders would immediately pull away.

He didn’t.


	20. Anders Johnson/John Mitchell/John Porter/Lucas North

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vampire!anders tied to a chair by either porter or lucas north (or both) while they wait for mitchell to come straighten anders out

“Let me out of here, you fuckers!” he snarled, pulling at the ropes tying him to the chair. Neither Lucas nor John flinched when his eyes turned black or when he bared his teeth at them, and that just infuriated him more.

“You know we can’t let you,” Porter reminded him, firm but calm and Anders wanted to rip his throat out.

“You could kill someone,” Lucas added.

“Oh? You two, of all people, are concerned I might kill someone?” he sneered. “Do they tie you to a chair before or after they pay you?” Lucas looked down and Porter’s eyes hardened, but neither of them untied him.

“Apologize,” John growled.

“Fuck you!”

Lucas quietly got to his feet and stepped in front of him, his cocky mask gone and the naked concern that took its place was almost too much for Anders to look at. He defiantly kept up his glare anyway.

“None of us, not me or Porter or Mitchell, want you to have that on your conscience.”

Anders’s shoulders slumped and he looked at the floor, and Lucas kneeled in front of him and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. Porter nodded even though Anders couldn’t see.

“Thank you,” he added. Anders looked up at both of them miserably.

“Will Mitchell be here soon?”

“He’s on his way,” Lucas murmured soothingly. “He knows how to deal with this.”

“He damn well better,” he muttered, and Porter and Lucas would have smiled if not for the bitterness in Anders’s voice. “He left me to deal with this alone.” Lucas pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek before trailing kisses down his jaw. They didn’t know what to say. Anders already knew why Mitchell left, he already knew why he couldn’t bear to talk to, or even look at Anders. That didn’t change that he did this and then left him to wake up alone.

“We’ll fix this,” Porter said, steel in his voice and both Lucas and Anders looked at him hopefully, although Anders’s look was also angry. “We will,” he repeated, tone brooking no argument. Anders stopped picking at the ropes and Lucas gave a small nod.


	21. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anders meets Mitchell on his way back from fetching the useless stick of useless (Yggdrasil), and as a result never meets Helen/Idunn

Anders felt someone tracing patterns on his chest, soft, swirling touches. He sighed and melted further into the bed, Mitchell pressing a kiss to his chest when he saw Anders relax even more. Still, Anders could feel Mitchell tense over him, so he grudgingly opened his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Mitchell didn’t answer right away, still tracing idle shapes with a faraway look on his face.

“Ty told me about him and Eva,” he answered, quiet and Anders nodded and waited for him to continue.

“And?” he prodded.

“There are goddesses that are married to some of your gods. Idunn for you.” He stopped, laying his palm flat on Anders’s chest to feel the rise and fall of it. Anders rubbed a thumb over Mitchell’s cheek and moved up to scratch at his scalp when Mitchell still wouldn’t look at him.

“What does it matter?”

Mitchell’s head snapped up.

“Ty and Olaf said you can’t control it, that you’ll be drawn to each other—”

“Why are you worried?” he cut him off, and Mitchell fell silent. “I haven’t met Idunn. I might never meet Idunn. Besides,” he started, rolling them over. “Why would I want some random chick when I already have a vampire with a fantastic ass?” Mitchell hit him on the back of the head and Anders winced, but he leaned down to press kisses down his neck.

“Anders—”

“I don’t care about Idunn.” He kissed down his jaw. “Destiny is a crock of shit, and I could care less about some random goddess that may or may not be running around.” Mitchell relaxed against him, hands holding onto his shoulders. “I’m fine where I am.”


	22. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Shit, are you bleeding?!"

“Shit, are you bleeding?!”

Anders stiffened at hearing someone in his apartment, still exhausted from the blood loss. His shoulders dropped in relief when Mitchell rounded the corner.

“What the hell,” he muttered as he reached for Anders, tilting his head to see where the blood came from.

“Michelle healed it already.”

“Healed  _what?_ ”

“Axl accidentally threw me into some rubble. It’s no big deal.”

He tried to walk towards the couch but Mitchell steered him towards the bedroom.

“It is a big deal if you lost that much blood,” he said, sitting him on the bed and unbuttoning his shirt with deft fingers. He tilted his head to the side again. “I should probably get you orange juice or something,” he muttered.

“You really should. What kind of nurse are you?”

“You can’t be feeling too bad if you’re being rude.” He stood from his crouch in front of Anders. “I’ll get you some juice and then I’ll clean you off.”

“With your mouth?”

“Just for that I’m not putting any vodka in your juice.”


	23. John Mitchell/Anders Johnson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knocking on the wrong door au
> 
> (in this au, Mitchell and the Johnsons have known each other for a while)

“Tyyyyyyy,” Anders slurred, knocking at the door. Mitchell sighed and pulled him away from it, leading him further down the street.

“Wrong door, Anders.” Mitchell thought that now that he had his hands on him at least, they’d be able to make it to Ty’s house without Anders knocking on yet another stranger’s door. Unfortunately, Anders managed to wiggle out of his grasp again and had made it to another door.

“Tyyyyyyyyy! Why won’t you answer?”

“Because that’s not Ty’s house,” Mitchell snapped, grabbing Anders and pulling him away. “What I don’t understand,” he started, arm an iron bar around Anders’s shoulders as he led him down the street and his other hand clenching the blond’s hand as tight as he could without hurting him. “Is how someone who drinks as much as you can have such a horrible underestimation of their alcohol tolerance.”

Predictably, Anders didn’t answer, too busy trying to wiggle away again to knock on another door. Mitchell tightened his grip, knowing any more pressure and he’d actually hurt the god, but they were so close to Ty’s house that it would be pathetic if Anders got away now.

He knocked on the door, the bang of his hand against the wood loud, even against the drunken humming that Anders had just started. Ty opened the door, mouth opening to say something but snapping shut once he caught sight of Anders. He stepped to the side and gestured for them to come in.

“Sorry,” Mitchell said, not sounding as sorry as he should. “I didn’t know where else to take him.”

“His apartment?”

“It’s on the third floor, and he can’t tell the difference between doors and windows at the moment.”

Ty nodded as if he understood, and he probably did.

“Are you staying too?”

“Do you mind?”

“No.” Ty tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at him. “Are you dumping him?”

“I should, shouldn’t I? This was the first date,” he said before groaning and putting his head in his hands.

“Not going to?” Mitchell groaned again in response. “Just realized you’re smitten?” Mitchell nodded. “Well, at least you know what his worst is now.”


	24. Sirius Black/Remus Lupin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you mean you lost it!”

“What do you mean you lost it!”

The younger Slytherin in front of him winced and looked like he wanted to run. He had helped steal Remus’s bag as a prank, but now couldn’t remember where he had hidden it. With a growl, Sirius lifted him by the collar.

“You’d better remember, and if it’s not here in an hour I’ll curse you until even Madame Pomfrey can’t fix you,” he snarled before dropping him and letting him scramble off.

He moved off to try and find it himself; it had Remus’s wolfsbane potion inside.


End file.
